


Duck, Duck-...GEESE!?

by TheeWrites_TF2



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: 2fort, BLU-Team Appears, Birds, Geese attack, I'm truly surprised 'Goose|Geese' is an official character tag, RED-Team Centric, more tags to be added later, that's pretty much it, that's the plot, you learn something new every day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 07:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18425715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheeWrites_TF2/pseuds/TheeWrites_TF2
Summary: On a semi-warm autumn day in the 2Fort base, the RED and BLU receive a flock of visitors, here for the season.The visitors are not friendly. The visitors do not care that these are mercenaries.Also, the visitors bite.Long story short, It's a rough day on the battlefield.





	Duck, Duck-...GEESE!?

**Author's Note:**

> I still can't believe that I made a 6000-plus worded one-shot on this idea. I blame this lovely post from wolf-boiii on Tumblr, which found HERE: 
> 
> ( https://wolf-boiii.tumblr.com/post/182894171022/a-pair-of-geese-builds-their-nest-in-the-middle-of )
> 
> Still, despite it's ridiculousness and astounding high word-count, I had a lot of fun with this One-Shot, and I hope y'all enjoy it as well! Consider this as a 'prelude' to my slow but steady return to my name, 'Theewrites-TF2.' I can't promise WHEN more of the TF2 is coming... But it'll be here, trust me.
> 
> Until then, enjoy this monster-sized one-shot and feel free to leave a comment or review!

“... _ Leetle birds _ .”

The two words, spat out with such anger, should have been a warning taken seriously. They were nine, professional mercenaries, in the heat of battle whilst spitting death and their opponents in the face with the aid of technology and weapons that would make a militaristic government drool over. A potential disturbance against their conflict should be taken seriously, as their wealth and usefulness to their higher-ups depended on their success in daily battle, and perhaps even later they would quietly admit that, considering the outcome of this day, the grunted warning of the Russian behemoth  _ should _ have been heeded, or at least investigated.

Unfortunately, these were the mercenaries of Teufort, and thus, such a warning would not be taken seriously.

“Pfffft, dude, are ya  _ serious _ ?!” Scout guffawed into his headset, leaning on his baseball bat to keep from falling over as he cackled and hooted. “Newsflash, pallie: birds EXIST. I know, I know,  _ insane _ to believe, ‘cause where you’re from, I’m sure everything freezes mid-air—”

“Have seen birds before.” Heavy cut him off, the scowl present in his voice and flash of irritation causing Scout to subconsciously flinch. Teammate or not, having the Heavy’s hostility in your life was no picnic. “These birds are not normal. Leetle birds take sandvich.”

A pregnant pause followed. Then the Scout burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all, before his laughter quickly turned into wet gurgling, signaling both a puncture via the respiratory system, as well as an upcoming trip to respawn.

“Bloody hell, I don’ got time for this,” the thick Australian voice crackled to life over the radio, irritation clear and frustration growing. His kill-count hadn’t been too high, and although the morning blood-bath had only just begun, it stung his pride that his body-count hadn’t even touched double-digits yet. “Big guy, did ya show them ya gun?”

“Yes. Heavy show gun. Heavy  _ fire _ gun. Leetle birds take sandvich and chase Heavy away.”

“... Birds.”

“Da.”

“...”

“...”

“B-I-R-D-S. Birds, avian creatures? Beaks and wings, those the birds we talkin’ about ‘ere?”

“Yes.”

“...They chased  _ you _ away?!”

“Wasn’t aware this was the new party-line,” drawled the Engineer as he tapped onto the team radio call. “Bit confused, this a battle or a social call? C’mon, ya’ll, I‘m workin’ like a donkey over here and ya’ll are just gonna chit-chat all damn day?”

A heavy Russian sigh was heard, “Dangerous leetle birds. Is not normal, they take Heavy’s sandvich, without  _ fear _ .”

“...Oh my freakin’ GOD, is he still talkin’ about the birds…?!” Scout snickered as he bounded out of respawn, and Sniper sighed. 

“Yeah mate, I dunno what’s goin’ on, but he keeps going on about ‘em…”

“HAH! Maybe he’s finally freakin’ lost it—oh, oh WAIT, it’s that damn VODKA. Yeah, I bet the fumes of it got to his damn head, now he’s seein’ shi—!"

“Scout does NOT make fun of Russian vodka...  _ or Scout no longer has arms. _ ” The three men on call visibly winced at the bone-chilling tone in Heavys voice, while Scout started to stammer up a tough-guy rebuke, Engineer swiftly cut in to end the verbal feud, smacking his currently upgrading dispenser between words. 

“Okay, fellas, we’ve had our fun now let's all settle down—"

“AYE! …We talkin’ booze over ‘ere, cause laddies, ‘ave I gotta scrumpy that’ll make yae WEEP—!"

By this point, several different conversations were occurring on the team radio, but after three minutes, a couple respawn-related pauses and a sentry-sapping alert, Soldier’s roaring voice, empowering and always on the verge of cracking from over-use voice could be heard throughout the base, a sudden and chilling warning as his haunting last word echoed:

“ _ BIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRDS _ !”

Immediately following the exclamation, there was a _ ding _ , indicating that the American-enthusiast had taken a respawn trip, and everyone on the radio call paused, allowing Heavy to add in, almost grimly, “Leetle birds  _ are _ dangerous. Heavy warned team, but team does not listen.”

A horrified, dawning realization overcame the battle-hardened mercenaries, but Scout still scoffed, “A-ain’t no way in  _ hell _ ,” he insisted, though his tone was shaky, suggesting he was slowly turning traitor on his thoughts of the supposedly ‘harmless’ birds. “Last I checked, we ain’t nowhere NEAR the pigeon population of Boston, and  _ those _ bastards are pure evil, I got the scars to prove it! Vultures around ‘ere all we got, and they're all  _ wussies _ !”

“Reckon you’re correct, boy… Still, wouldn’t mind givin’ the bridge a lil’ looksie, would ya? See what exactly the big fella’s goin’ on about?” Engineer inquired, and there was a brief pause.

“...Well…why can’t Demo do it?”

“...Mate…are ya  _ scared _ —?!”

“N-no, I’m just sayin’, he’s closer—!”

“Mate, I‘m lookin’ atcha right now—”

“ _ Creeper _ .”

“—yae are literally less than a minute from the bridge, just go check it out!”

Scout groaned long and tiredly, pausing to crack his bat over the head of the passing enemy Pyro, the impact of metal on cranium hardly causing the mercs listening in to hardly wince or bat an eye, the sound already being so frequent on this battlefield…unlike birds that potentially sent an offense-class merc to respawn, and induced the Heavy’s wrath without  _ immediate _ death.

“Freakin’...FINE. But you bozos should go check on Solly, I haven’t heard him since he hit respawn.”

“Leetle birds got him…like birds got  _ sandvich _ …”

“Man, shut it!” Scout whined, clearly feeling on edge at the dreaded implications recent events were slowly starting to point to. “They under the bridge, or whatever?”

Heavy grunted in affirmation, and Scout set his course for the center cover-bridge on the battle, but not before he heard an amused scoff on the radio, before the Australian inquired, “Hey, wait, didja say that you were scarred by  _ pigeons _ ?” 

Scout sputtered out a vague response, a defensive curse and a “ _ SHUT UP _ !” at the amused Australian, before shutting off his radio whilst the sharp-eyed mercenary chuckled, picking up his gun and deciding that offering a check-in to respawn and finding out the details wouldn’t hurt.

* * *

 

Sniper tipped his hat as he passed by Engineer, who was placing the finishing touches on a newly-upgraded Stage 3 sentry positioned by the front opening of the RED base, glinting threateningly in the fall sun and daring any blue-wearing mercenaries to pass in front of it.

“Lookin’ good,” Sniper complimented him. “Ya upgraded the bullets?”

Engineer nodded, a hint of a proud smirk on his lips. “Yessiree; Doc and I wanna see if we can Über the machine system, give the BLU’s a harder punch with every bullet.”

The Australian nodded, pretending his understood the fancy-technical talk. He paused to prop his gun up against the half wall, aim, and fire off into the distance, a faint scream of death sounding on the other end of the battlefield that caused a ghost of a smirk to appear on the lanky sharpshooter’s face: ‘ _ Boom, headshot. _ ’

“Was wonderin’ why the doc wasn’ on the field, he still workin’?”

Engineer nodded in confirmation, before jerking his head to the back end of the RED base. “Doc may have a reason for bein’ missin’, but ol’ Cap still hasn't come outta respawn. Probably makin’ some battleplan o’ his.”

Sniper nodded, firing a final warning shot at the BLU side of the bases, before straightening up. “Was gonna check up on intel anyway, I’ll swing by respawn,” he promised, and Engineer called out his thanks as Sniper slipped into the RED base, trading his sniper rifle for his kukri. 

Keeping his ears pricked for the sound of uncloaking spooks or the dreaded hiss of a flamethrower, Sniper quickly stalked through the base, dipping down the cool metal steps to the intel room. This section of the map was a stark difference from the dusty, barn-like structures on the surface below. The sudden appearance of metal and steel, upgraded machinery whirring behind the walls and blinking, and flashing machines behind tinted glass made Sniper’s skin crawl.

He didn’t come down to this area of the map often, it wasn’t a good idea strategy-wise, and he was used to being out in the open sun, not in this tomb of suspiciously upgraded technology and surveillance. He turned the corner and swore, lowering his automatically raised kukri as he caught sight of Heavy, machine gun at the ready.

“Bloody  _ hell,  _ mate, ya got my heart goin’,” he snapped lowly, while Heavy gave him a customary glare, silently debated if Spy-check was necessary, then decided to merely shrug in response. “Am doing job. No BLU babies allowed near case,” he defended himself. Sniper raised a brow and walked over to the intel, unsurprised to find it untarnished by any grubby BLU hands.

Heavy was a defense-class mercenary, and if the blood staining the opposite hallway was any indication, he was doing his defense job fairly well. Still…

“...Ya down ‘ere hidin’ from the birds?”

“Thought leetle shooter was one with few words, not chatty.”

Hey, fair enough, Sniper decided, shrugging as he began to turn back to the stairs up to the real battlefield. “Was gonna go ‘n check on Soldier, he hasn’t shown up since his trip to the bridge—"

At that moment, a red, helmet-wearing blur stormed down the metal stairs, lunging at Sniper so fast, that even the presence of the color red wasn’t enough to stop him or Heavy, from raising their weapons in defense. Sniper squawked as two hands grabbed his neck, and the smell of blood, sweat, and American grilling filled his senses as Soldier peered at him suspiciously. Or, at least that's what Sniper suspected, since most of what he could see of Soldiers face was obscured by an old helmet.

“GOT ANY FEATHERS ON YOU?! HAVE YOU JOINED THE FEATHERED FOES, HAVE YOU GONE TRAITOR, SHELIA?!”

How Sniper, scratch that, how _no_ _one_ had gone deaf from the RED patriot’s hollering was an ongoing bafflement, but after the ringing in his ears had ceased and he reached up a hand to flick away the spittle that had launched at his face, Sniper replied as calmly as he possibly could, “What the actual bloody _hell_ are ya goin’ on abou—"

“OH, _ PRAISE SAM _ , I KNEW THEY COULDN'T HAVE CONVERTED YOU YET, BILBO!”

Getting crushed in a very patriotic hug, which nearly choked Sniper’s eyes out of their sockets, had not been in the sharpshooter’s plan today, but apparently, nothing was going as planned on this particular day. While Sniper struggled for breath, Soldier looped an unyielding arm around the slowly-suffocating Australian and turned to Heavy, “AND AS A FELLOW RED-BLOODED AMERICAN, I KNOW I CAN TRUST THAT YOU WERE STUBBORN ENOUGH TO IGNORE THE SUBLIMINAL PROPAGANDA THOSE FEATHERED BASTARDS TRIED TO SPOON-FEED YOU!”

Heavy only nodded, and when Sniper gave a confused look and went to correct Soldier’s opinion of Heavy’s nationality, the not-American spoke up over him, “Leetle birds take Heavy’s sandvich… they send Soldier to respawn?”

“YESSIR, THOSE BASTARDS FLEW UP AND ATTEMPTED TO PLUCK MY EYES OUT! OF COURSE, I WAS MID-JUMP SO EVEN MY SWINGING FISTS WERE USELESS, AND THUS I PLUNGED TO MY DEATH!”

Soldier raised a shaking fist towards the skies as he cursed the feathered-foes that had sent him to the cold grip of death, and with this action, Sniper was free of the grip around his neck, proceeding to stumble away with several rasped-out curses. “IF I HAD TO GUESS, I’D SAY IT WAS THE RED-COATS, FINALLY USING THE KNOWLEDGE OF CHARLIE DARWIN TO CREATE THESE SNAKE-NECKED, HONKING FEATHERED MONSTROSITIES!”

Soldier placed his hands on his hips, jaw set grimly as he looked at his two teammates. “ MEN, THE DAY HAS COME…THE REDCOATS ARE ATTEMPTING TO TAKE BACK THIS COUNTRY…THEY HAVE TAKEN OUR SKIES WITH THESE FEATHERY-BASTARDS, THEY HAVE STOLEN OUR RATIONS—”

He gestured towards Heavy, who merely shrugged at the mention of his earlier plight. “It  _ was _ good sandvich…”

“Bah, y’can make  _ more _ …”

“—AND NOW, MEN, THEY ARE ATTEMPTING TO TAKE OUR  _ LIVES _ .” Soldier yanked out his shovel, raising it like a warrior's sword to charge, and the blood that speckled the otherwise harmless garden tool only added to the ridiculous effect. “MEN, WE MUST TAKE THE FIGHT TO  _ THEM _ , WHICH IS WHY I BELIEVE THE ONLY COURSE OF ACTION IS TO TAKE A  _ ROCKET _ TO THE SKIES—”

The two mercenaries shared a tired groan, having heard this game plan before, though usually in more ridiculous and overcomplicated context. Why the over-enthusiastic, patriotic lunatic was so insistent on adding aerial warfare to the battlefield was anyone's guess, but most suspected that his rocket-jumps had given him the impression that he was now a master of the skies.

The little bottle cap ‘medal’ he had made for his ‘ _ Extraordinary Valor in American Airspace _ ’ only helped boost his confidence, and the unfortunate RED mercs who didn’t hide in time were forcibly subjected to unsuccessful ‘flying lessons.’ Flying was not the common end-goal during these lessons, only painful death that either involved falling to the ground or exiting the oxygen barrier around Earth entirely. 

“We already took a vote, mate, ya know it ain’t gonna happen—”

“Flying is cheap tactic, shooting from far away is coward’s move—”

“Now hold up ‘ere,  _ what the bloody hell are you tryin’ to say— _ ”

“Ah, I see. Zhis is where you simpletons decided to relax.”

Sniper cursed inwardly as Spy emerged. He considered himself an expert on  , yet the RED Frenchman had strolled into the intel room without anyone noticing his crisp, polished shoes clicking on metal…until he  _ wanted _ to be heard, of course. Damn annoying he was, and Sniper couldn’t help a grunt of satisfaction as he watched Soldier deliver a swift, customary Spy-check as greeting, looking disappointed that the RED suit didn’t change to blue.

“As much as I am a fan of relaxation and self-care,” Spy growled, rubbing his arm where a large bruise was forming under his sleeve, courtesy of the Spy-check, “may I remind you gentlemen zhat we are in  _ battle _ . Zhere are men to be  _ killed _ , a briefcase to be  _ captured _ , and a generously sized paycheck to be  _ collected  _ at ze end of ze day—”

“If that's the case, why are ya down ‘ere, Spook?” Sniper interrupted, pulling out his kukri to idly check the blade. “Last I checked, only time one of your lot comes down ‘ere is to backstab, cheat, ‘n slink off like a damn cacklin’ adder. What changed?”

Spy flicked out his cigarette case, putting a fancy imported cig between his lips as his lit it idly. “If I told you, I would be forced to kill you,” he replied simply, not sounding too devastated at the thought.

His Australian teammate snorted, “Don’t sound too excited, Spook, else I may have to do a Spy-check of my own—”

“I’LL TELL YA WHY HE’S HERE, MEN!” Soldier barked, and lunged at the suave Frenchman, who squawked in a surprisingly un-suave manner. “CROUTON HAS TURNED TRAITOR AND IS GATHERING INTEL FOR THE ENEMY! QUICK, SHELIA, CHECK HIS SUIT FOR A FEATHERED-SHAPE COMMUNICATOR OR AN EGG-SHAPED GRENADE.”

Spy let out an indignant splutter at the accusation, and Heavy and Sniper watched the mildly entertaining show of Spy trying to fend off the ranting American, neither mercenary willing to intervene. “THOSE BIRD BASTARDS ARE A REVOLTING BUNCH, BUT I ALWAYS KNEW YOU WOULD TURN ONE DAY, FRENCHIE—!”

“ _ Mon dieu _ , Get off!” The Frenchman spat, managing to keep Soldier at bay, gritting a dangling cigarette between his teeth as he shot a glare at the two audience members to this ridiculous show. “I’m assuming you’ve gotten acquainted with our new...guests,  _ non _ ?”

Heavy nodded to confirm, and Sniper shrugged, “Just some birds, nothin’ serious—”

“THEY MURDERED ME AND ARE CORRUPTING OUR TROOPS—!”

“They got you too?” he guessed, a smirk quirking at his lips as he gestured to Spy’s now ruined pants leg, which earned a dark scowl from the Frenchman.

“Zhey are little  _ beasts _ ,” Spy grumbled, shoving Soldier away from him to straighten his tie, his face reverting back to a calm mask. “And instead of chit-chatting and ‘aving tea parties down here, I suggest you three make use and perhaps take care of ze distractions, if it wouldn’t prove too much of an  _ inconvenience _ for you.” 

“‘ _ Distraction _ ’? Mate, they bit ya pants and flew too close to Captain over ‘ere—” 

“And took Heavys sandvich…”

“—That makes ‘em annoyin’, yeah, but not a bloody  _ distraction _ .”

Spy took a long drag, before putting his cig away to blow some smoke into the air as he fixed a Sniper with a cool, calculating gaze. “You underestimate zhem, Bushman. Zhey may not be our real enemies, but zhey are distracting both teams from doing our jobs and earning a paycheck.”

“ _ Both _ ?” Sniper repeated, raising a brow as Spy nodded grimly, turning and heading up the stairs. “Yes, and if you have any doubts…I zhink you must follow me, and see with your own eyes.”

* * *

 

“...Ya can’t be serious.”

“As the plague, Slim.”

“I’m assuming ze boy refuses to move?”

“Well, what ELSE can he do?”

“Aye, he’s as trapped as a worm on a string, laddies! All we ‘an do is offer a toast ta the twinkle-toes,  _ OI LADDIE _ ! Don’ worry, we’ll raise a pint in ye honor!”

At this point, Scout couldn’t tell if it was true sympathy in the Scotsman's voice or if it was all jeering, but he didn’t dare look and catch the smirk on Demo’s face. No, his gaze was focused solely on the beady black eyes that bore straight into his soul, the fluffed-up feathers that signified carnal rage, and webbed feet that were trembling with the urge to pounce and wreak havoc on the downed runner. Scout, too curious and not wanting to be labeled as a wimp by either team, had swung himself onto the suspiciously uncovered bridge, and after a brief conflict with the opposing team’s Scout, had found himself with his gun kicked over the side of the bridge, a dead BLU on his way to respawn, and several large avians, clearly pissed from being awoken from their easy slumber, their beady eyes boring into Scout’s as they slowly advanced on the downed mercenary.

“Birds aren’t supposed to hiss!” the young Bostonian snapped over his shoulder, trying to use his elbows and heels to  _ slowly _ maneuver himself backward to the RED base, freezing as a threatening honk was the reply. “...So someone better start tellin’ me, why the  _ hell _ are these bastards  _ hissin’ _ , wh-what are they, venomous?! Am I gonna get bit?!”

He clamped his mouth shut as the edge of hysteria entered his tone, and winced silently as Soldiers voice boomed over from the enviously safe distance. “THOSE ARE SNAKEBIRDS, PRIVATE, A WEAPON DESIGNED BY OL’ DARWIN HIMSELF! THE BRITS ARE RETURNING, MEN, THE REDCOATS ARE COMING TO TAKE BACK THIS LAND, AND THOSE FEATHERED BASTARDS ARE PHASE ONE OF THE HOSTILE TAKEOVER!” he announced, and even the large feathered beasts paused to digest this theory.

Scout took a chance of the distraction, turning and attempting to crawl away like a frantic cockroach, scrabbling and using the splintery wood as leverage to scramble along the floor of the bridge.

RED team all collectively winced as the enraged birds sprang, their honks and flapping wings shielding the Bostonian from view, and Engineer swore as he heard Scout screeching from within the pile of attacking birds. “BOY, GET YOUR ASS  _ UP _ AND SHOOT ‘EM!” he barked, and Scout wailed back, “I CAN’T, my gun went over the side—ow, DAMMIT, leave my ear ALONE, oh GOD, GET ‘EM OFF!”

Sniper rolled his eyes, reaching for his rifle strapped to his back. “We don’ have time for this shite—”

Before he could slip it from its carrier, Engineer halted him with a sigh. “No, I don’ think our employers will appreciate the juvenile use of their bullets on some birds.”

Spy snorted in disbelief. “I can imagine zhey disapprove of  _ many _ of our astoundingly idiotic uses of zheir tools and resources. I doubt zhey will bat an eye at this…dear laborer, I do believe you simply want to avoid sharing a fate with our fallen Scout.”

Engineer gave a glare at the accusation, and attention of the RED team was diverted from the brawling avians to the two team members. “I ain't seein’ YOU comin’ up with any bright ideas or ignorin’ ‘em. What, you afraid of gettin’ some bird doo-doo on your damn  _ tie _ next?” Engineer suggested mockingly as he gestured to Spys ruined pants, an action that earned him a scowl and a face full of expertly-aimed blown smoke.

Sniper stepped in, “Right, alright, lets keep it civil.” He scowled, then jerked his chin over to Scout. “Let's start with the basics: Do we help ‘im?”

The entirety of RED turned their gaze to the now fully-downed Scout, who had curled up in a fetal position on the ground as several honking birds pecked and squawked at him, flapping their wings furiously as they defended their newfound territory. The Bostonian was attempting to trash-talk the dive-bombing avians, but the fact that he wasn’t fighting back or refusing to get up and run made all his yowled-out threats null and void. Everyone verbally declined to assist him, and turned back to the argument between Spy and Engineer, until they heard a yell from across the bridge: “ _ Hey losers _ !”

The BLU team was in a similar gathering near the entrance of their respective base, and were watching the events unfold from across the way.

Sniper scowled, taking out his rifle as he answered the BLU Scouts call. “The hell do you want, wanker?”

The young man sniffed nonchalantly, but even from a distance Sniper could see his eyes flicker uneasily to the cluster of birds and resisting Boston limbs as the RED fast-talker began to make a third, or perhaps a fourth, attempt at escape from his tomb of foul-tempered feathers. “So… we gonna fight, or what’s up?” The BLU inquired, swinging his bat idly, “‘Cause looks to me like you assholes are too chicken to cross the bridge, wanna make sure ya ain’t flakin’!”

“Funny, I don’ see yae blabberin’ BLU bastards haulin’ ye arses over here!” Demoman jeered, swinging out his bomb-launcher to smack it threateningly against his palm. “If ye think ye got the guts, why don’tcha come on over, ya daft idiots?!”

“Don’ feel like it!” the BLU Scout snapped. “What, ya gonna quit for the day? ‘M happy to claim that fancy little briefcase of yours if ya gettin’ cold feet over there, buddy!”

Spy stepped forward, smoke curling around him as he blew out another lungful of smoke, “We are quite ready to battle,” he called over in an almost bored tone. “As a matter of fact,  _ petite lapin _ , RED will remain on zhis side of the bridge for the duration of ze battle.” On cue, the remaining RED members that were not being swarmed by avians or upgrading tech back at home base whirled around to gawk or protest the Frenchman’s announcement.

“Are ya  _ nuts _ ?” Sniper snapped, going to grab Spy by the collar, before the Frenchman shot him a withering glare promising a  _ very _ painful death if the Australian placed his hands on the Frenchman’s suit. “Defend the rest of the damn day, we’re already one down—”

“Actually, I think Scout’s finally tappin’ out over ‘ere…”

“— _ two _ down, and ya want us to  _ defend _ ? It’s not even bloody well  _ near _ noon yet, how are we gonna—” Sniper was silenced by a gloved finger pressed to his lips, and the murderous look in his eyes suggested he was weighing the pros and cons of biting down on said finger, but Spy ignored it.

“Bushman, do you hear zhat? It’s called h _ esitation _ , and ze BLUs are practically screaming it,” he said, unimpressed and smug at the same time. True to his word, the BLU’s had gathered together and were in a heated, argumentative discussion, which was accompanied by frantic and deliberate gestures towards the still-struggling Scout in a mountain of feathers.

At this point, several RED members considered fetching Pyro on the hopeless mercenary, but ultimately forgot the poor Bostonian’s plight as the BLUs turned back to the awaiting REDs with their verdict.

“Listen up, bozos! We’ve decided that ya had enough of gettin’ ya asses kicked today—”

“Pfft,  _ that’s _ what ya call it?”

“—so while you frickin’ idiots are busy fallin’ around with your new pets—”

“ _ WE ARE NOT AFFILIATED WITH THOSE BIRDS _ —!”

“Jesus  _ Christ _ , quit interupptin’!” the BLU Scout snapped, and Spy’s twin BLU counterpart stepped forward, pinching the bridge of his nose as he began to address the opposing team.

“We are willing to  _ postpone _ our victory until zhis problem is dealt with,” he informed the REDs, the fabric of his balaclava bunching up against his unseen face as he scowled deeply. “You are advised to stay on your toes, as when ze time is right, we will  _ not _ show any merc—”

**_BAM!_ **

The BLU Scout squawked and swiftly ducked back to the safety of his own base, as his teammates head exploded, the RED Sniper clearly having heard enough. “Coulda used more distance but still. Look at that bloody gorgeous red mist…” he muttered with a self-satisfied smirk, which faltered into a frown as Spy clucked his tongue, unimpressed.

“Ah yes, truly a hero to all…you shot him from a safe distance,” he stated dryly. “We are so proud.”

Sniper turned with his gun still raised, only slightly disappointed that the Frenchman hardly blinked as his nose came in contact with an unwavering sniper rifle. “Got a problem with takin’ a clean shot, mate? Could always use some more short-range practice, ya lookin’ to be next?”

Engineer quickly made a move to step in, in a complete reversal of earlier events, but Spy brushed the barrel of the rifle away from his face to take a relaxed drag. “Bushman, we both know for a fact zhat you will not be pulling ze trigger…”

The Badlands paused collectively. Spy exhaled another lungful of smoke, and a smug, almost cheeky smirk flickered on his face.

“...Without taking  _ at least _ five steps back.”

“ _ Oh, ya bloody sonofabitch—!" _

It was at this moment, that the seven members of the RED team became eight once again, as Scout finally broke free and made a dash to his side of the bridge. His hat was gone, hair fluffed up and sticking all over his head, while his eyes were so wide you can spot the whites from a mile away. He dashed over and clamped his arms around Pyro, using the mystery merc as a shield while he caught his breath, red bite-marks covering almost every visible surface of his body, and his uniform sporting new holes. He took several minutes to catch his breath, before sucking in a lungful of air to yowl in rage at his team, “ _ You assholes LEFT me over there! _ ”

“Ach, yae were doin’ fine over there, lad—”

“I was NOT, I was cr—I mean, I was YELLIN’ for help, but you bastards were over here sittin’ on your useless asses and twiddlin’ your thumbs,  _ WHILE I WAS GETTIN’ FREAKIN’ HARASSE _ D—!"

“SON, ARE YOU CRYING?!”

“ _ Shut the hell up _ !” Scout gasped between yells, and quickly used his shoulder to rub his eyes aggressively before anyone could see any wetness in them, before pointing an accusing finger at his team. “And don’ laugh, these feathered freaks were  _ EVIL _ , I‘m BRUISED, fellas! They wouldn’ stop PECKIN’ and they’re wings were like, frickin’ BRICKS or somthin’—!”

Engineer stepped forward, the second most medically trained mercenary on the field to examine the boy. “...Well, damn, they  _ did _ getcha pretty good,” Engineer admitted with a low whistle, poking gingerly at one of the quickly forming bruises on Scouts upper arm, which earned him a hiss and a cursed-laced whine from the Bostonian, who was wounded in both body, mind and pride. “Y’know, maybe those Über-bullets wouldn’ be such a bad idea right about now…”

“In case ya forgot, Hard Hat, they got  _ wings _ , wings that frickin’  _ hurt _ , by the way—”

“We get picture,” Heavy interrupted, having a stern stare-down with the now relaxed grey and brown avian creatures, arms crossed firmly over his chest as the beady eyes glared back at the behemoth in defiance. “Leetle birds, there are many of. Heavy show them gun, leetle birds only honk back. Heavy try to shoo leetle birds away…” The large guy hesitated, before holding out his hand for the RED mercenaries gathered to see. The Russian man’s pinky, which was easily the size of a young child's wrist, had swollen up and had begun to turn dark blue and black, a forewarning of a painful bruise that could have easily been a twin to Scouts forming markings, “They bite Heavy, even  _ after _ Heavy show them gun, and leetle birds take sandvich.”

“MEN….THIS WILL BE A TOUGH BATTLE.” Soldier swung out his shovel, slapping it against his palm threateningly as he stared down the birds. “SOME OF YOU MAY EVEN DIE. BUT, IF WE ARE TO STOP THE REDCOATS FROM ONCE AGAIN TERRORIZING AND TAKING BACK THIS BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY BY FORCE, OUR DEATHS ARE A SACRIFICE WORTHY OF THIS GLORIOUS COUNTRY...AND POSSIBLY SEVERAL MEDALS OF HONOR!”

Spy deadpanned after the brief and heroic speech, “You will have to drag my cold dead body behind you on a  _ string _ , in order to get me anywhere  _ near _ zhose monsters,” he spat, and briefly gave the ruined pants leg of his ten thousand-dollar suit a mournful glance, before smoothing his expression to cool nonchalance. “Besides, surely we can learn to co-exist with  _ le petites bêtes _ ,  _ non _ ? Perhaps use zheir chaotic existence to distract our enemies while we take zheir briefcase…”

“PRIVATE, THAT IS A COWARD’S WORDS AND I REFUSE TO WORK AMONG THOSE THAT HARM THE WEAKEST OF US—” 

“H-hey, I‘m right here!”

“IT IS A SIMPLE BATTLE PLAN, CROUTON, WE WILL USE SCOUT AS BAIT—” “ _ Ex-frickin’-cuse me _ ?!” 

“—AGAIN, HE IS THE WEAKEST OF US, AND WHILE I WILL MOURN FOR HIM FOR DECADES TO COME, HIS SACRIFICE GUARANTEES OUR VICTORY AGAINST THESE CURSED CREATIONS OF OL’ DARWIN—" 

“I didn’ sign up to be  _ bait _ , c-c’mon guys, I can’t go back in there—!”

“—YOU WILL GO BACK INTO BATTLE WITH BRAVERY AND HONOR, PRIVATE, JUST LIKE YOUR FOREFATHERS BEFORE YOU, YOU WILL FACE THOSE REDCOATS HEAD ON!

“I‘m from Boston, man, all we did is brew a crap-ton of tea in the harbor, probably polluted a buncha fish or whatever, point is, WE ALREADY PLAYED OUR PART, YOU CAN’T MAKE ME DO ANYMORE—!”

The REDs descended into shouting chaos, with Soldier attempting to drag off a rapidly panicking Scout, who clung to Pyro as if the masked pyromaniac was his lifeline, Spy and Sniper tossing thinly veiled insults to one another, and Engineer was making sure to stay between them so things wouldn’t get physical. With Demoman and Heavy watching the quickly dysfunctioning team, Heavy was quietly telling Demoman his tales of woe and the loss of his dear  sandvich, a viewer of this strange sight would suspect all hope was indeed lost for any competent work to be done by these mercenaries…

Then, the team of eight became nine, as Medic jogged out of the RED base to meet them, pausing at the ridiculous sight of his team, falling apart, all while under the gaze of beady avian eyes. “Vhat is happening? Did ve win…” He glanced at the nearing-noon sun, brow raised. “...so soon in zhe day? Vhere are the BLU _dummkopfs_?”

The Russian grunted a greeting to his German colleague, “Battle stopped. No one can cross bridge.”

Medic raised a brow skeptically, looking at the bickering team. “Vhy?”

“Is leetle birds. They bite, take Heavy’s sandvich and make Scout black and blue.”

The heavy-weapons specialist held out his hand as he gave the brief summary of the events that had passed, showing off his bruised finger to a seriously unsympathetic doctor.

“Bah, zat is merely a flesh vound, you vill live,” he scoffed, waving away the Heavy’s excuses or backstory of the situation as he stepped forward, ice-colored eyes surveying his team. “My friends, ve are in  _ battle _ , I have spent ze last several hours within a lab with no success—”

“Ah, darn, the Über doesn’t work on bullets?”

“ _ Nein _ , my hard-hatted friend, I am afraid ve are back at square one…but zat is beside ze point!” he scolded them. “My bloodbath quota of ze day is below average, and you lot bickering like vhining _ kinder _ vill NOT be useful in my daily slaughtering and daily intake of ze tormented, hounded screams of ze-  _ was ist das _ ?” Medic suddenly asked in the middle of his reprimanding of his team, pointing at the silent observers and feathered occupiers of the bridge.

“THE REDCOATS ARE ON THE RISE AND THESE ARE THE FIRST WAVE—!” Soldier started, but Engineer clamped a hand over his mouth, the ringing in his ears reaching headache-inducing heights.

“Well doc, those critters there are the reason Scout’s all busted up like a kicked can, why Spook’s being more moody than usual, and why the BLUs are nowhere to be found,” Engineer explained calmly, but there was a fury behind his goggles that silently told the others to  _ shut up _ for once, while he explained, though Spy was fuming silently. He was not ‘ _ moody _ ,’ did the laborer have ANY idea how much these pants, now ripped beyond sewable repair, co?! “Them critters are mighty vicious, scared Scout over ‘ere half to death, even caused the BLU sum-bitches to run off with their tails between their legs—” 

“Yes yes, quite fascinating.” Medic replied dismissively, clearing his way through the mercs to click-clack his way swiftly over the resting flock, eyes bright as he cooed at the nearing sight. “Oh zhey are  _ vunderbar _ !”

Scout winced as the doctor reached a gloved hand towards the birds, and gave the German the respect of covering his eyes. “Oh, jeez, this ain’t gonna be pretty…nice knowin’ ya, doc!”

“Vhat are you talking about?” Medic called back, rubbing a hand along the stiff brown and black feathers on the birds back, and, stunningly the bird honked easily, all signs of aggression dying quietly as Medic examined the birds curiously. “Canadian geese, if I do say so myself,” he remarked in order to vocalize his findings to his stunned teammates. “Recently arrived from the north, I am unsurprised zat zhey proved to be so cranky!”

“CANADIAN?!” Soldier stood at attention immediately. “I PERSONALLY TRAINED ALONGSIDE THE CARIBOU OF CANADA BEFORE MY DEPLOYMENT TO EUROPE, THOSE SONSOFBITCHES ARE  _ TRUE _ WARRIORS, FULL OF RAGE AND GLORY AND ANTLERS THAT’LL STICK RIGHT THROUGH YOUR—”

“Yes yes, ve have  _ all _ heard your ‘tales of glory’ from your travels.” Medic replied dryly, now gently petting a practically cooing goose on its flank. “Honestly, I am stunned that you  _ kinder _ vere so stupidly startled by zhese lovely creatures!”

Scout gawked. “Freakin’... _ lovely _ ?! One of them is STILL chewin’ on my damn hat, doc!” He cried, the Bostonian gesturing wildly at the innocent-looking goose that was idly chomping on his baseball cap.

“Zhey are merely a curious bunch,” Medic waved his hand dismissively, raising a brow at his team as he stood, the geese clustered around him like innocent ducklings, and not the previously rage-filled beats they proved themselves to be mere moments before.

“While I can not understand exactly why you are all so fearful of zese birds—”

“Doctor, look at my pants—”

“My sandvich—”

“I HAVE BRUISES, DOC!”

“—vhatever ze reason, just to be clear…ze BLU team forfeited today’s match because of the appearance of zhese creatures,  _ ja _ ?”

Sniper nodded with a shrug, accepting this outcome easily. The German ex-doctor already had a flock full of demon-eyed doves, it was easy to imagine him calming a clan of anger-filled, bloodthirsty geese. “Yeah, they tried to sound tough but it was clear the wankers were spooked ‘an didn’ wanna end up like our own twitchy sprinter over ‘ere.”

Scout didn’t even reply to defend himself, and was too focused on mouthing threats to the goose who still, almost smugly now, busied itself by nibbling on the RED runner’s headwear while Medic pondered for a moment. 

“Vell, zhese little friends of ours will likely remain for ze remainder of ze season before flying back north for ze vinter…vhy not put zhem to use, hm?”

Spy scoffed lightly under his breath, crushing his burnt cigarette under his leather shoe. “You suggest we keep zhem as  _ pets _ , doctor?” he asked incredulously, but Medic only grinned.

“ _ Nein _ . If ze enemy is frightened of zhem, zhen I do believe the best course of action is to get zhem… _ used _ to one another. Specifically, bringing zhese creatures to ze BLUs to have a little ‘play-date’, vhile ve go and fetch ze briefcase.” His grin was bone-white, sharp and malicious as he unveiled his plan, and it was met with silence as the RED team took in his terrifying expression, the eerie image completed by several barely-passive geese milling around him.

“Will not forgive leetle birds for taking sandvich,” Heavy grunted, but nonetheless, he pulled out his massive gun Sascha, readying his deadly girl in his huge hands. “But will be happy to watch BLU’s cry like babies.  _ Da, _ this plan is good.”

The other mercs made their affirmations, and Medic turned with a dark chuckle, beginning his stride towards the BLU base. Past victims, like Spy and Scout steered clear of the avians, but Pyro was quickly making friends with a couple of the still downy goslings, while Sniper tipped his hat at them in respect for their previous battles. With Demoman offering the larger birds a sip of scrumpy, and with Soldier broadcasting his own past experience with the native Canadian population, they hardly looked like a terrifying bunch, but still, when the BLU team’s Scout called out, “Uhhhhhh, fellas, th-theyre bringin’ the damn BIRDS into the base!” The BLU team attempted to scramble back into action, to ready themselves from the onslaught of feathered foes that was marching their way...

The screams of fallen BLUs, the enraged honking and the cackle of the victorious RED team, proved their attempts to spare themselves from the attack of the geese clan, had all been for naught.

**END**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> And, she's so awesome she gets the End-Note section all to herself, MAJOR kudos and a HUGE thank-you to a good friend of mine, Hylla (@hyllatavorianaldan on Tumblr) who put up with all my commentary while writing this fic, and also being a GREAT editor when my 4AM grammar checks started going south!
> 
> Seriously, without her, I highly doubt the correct punctuation would be in the correct spots. Don't edit at 4 AM, kids, it's not that productive.
> 
> Until next time!!!
> 
> -Thee


End file.
